


If Lucette Wasn't Cursed

by Saturn10710



Category: Cinderella Phenomenon (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Lucette does not get cursed, but everyone else still does
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-05 02:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14607012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturn10710/pseuds/Saturn10710
Summary: We all know how it starts; Lucette goes to breakfast, then goes to town, then goes back to her room, and is woken up in the middle of the night to be cursed.The difference in this? She sleeps uninterrupted and wakes up, still a princess, because for unknown reasons Delora decides  not to curse her.As the Ice Princess has no incentive to be good, through the events of the next few months, will she still become good? Will she remain the same? Or will she fall to the same temptations as her mother and plunge into evil?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I absolutely love Cinderella Phenomenon, which is funny because I never used to think much of visual novels, but now I am ADDICTED, and I absolutely cannot wait until Evermore is out!  
> Also this fandom needs more stories, so...  
> But also, this story takes elements from all five routes, so I recommend only reading this once you've gone through all of them. Also, this should go without saying, but MAJOR spoilers for Fritz's route, obviously, so don't even skim through this if you haven't done his route yet, lol.  
> I mean, there aren't really any spoilers in the first chapter (except for one I think) but there will be later on, and I don't know how much of the other routes I'm going to incorporate into this, it just depends on which direction I take the story in, which I haven't exactly figured out yet.

I wake up, then sigh.

_Today’s just going to be the same as every other day._

Well, at least I don’t have to go to town with Emelaigne ever again. Yesterday was a disaster.

_Why do I even bother going to meals?_

The same thing is going to happen today. I’ll walk in, the king and Ophelia will greet (ahem, _attempt_ to greet, in the latter’s case) me, Rod will barely acknowledge me, and Emelaigne will either cheerfully greet me or she will walk in late while cheerfully proclaiming she lost track of time reading a book.

Then the king will ask about the book and they will start a conversation that will raise my father’s spirits for the rest of the day.

Then the rest of breakfast will be spent in relative silence with the four of them conversing at certain points and I will interject as I see fit.

And the king will smile at all of them lovingly before turning his disappointed gaze to me.

And then I will go to my room and talk to my dolls.

The same thing, every day.

I remember what Fritz said yesterday. About change sometimes being a good thing.

But…Mother never changed. And if she was still alive today, she would still be the same; loving, beautiful, my light.

_Why am I even thinking about this?_

However, I grudgingly let the maids in when they knock on my door and let them dress me. I can’t show weakness, after all.

_I wish Mother was here._

Mother would make everything better. She would make everything brighter.

I shake my head to clear those thoughts once the servants are gone, each curtseying carefully and perfectly before hurrying out the door.

They fear me. All of them do.

But it ensures they all complete their work perfectly. A palace servant should feel grateful to have the chance to work here; there is no room for flaws, even the slightest one.

I scoff when I remember how Emelaigne got so mad when I fired that maid who ripped one of my doll’s dresses. Annice, I believe her name was.

Emelaigne argued that I should give the maid another chance; it was only her first day and all that nonsense.

But Mother never tolerated mistakes. And neither do I. Who cares if she was new? I have no time to let a maid be trained; she was hired to work! And she will do it perfectly, or not do it at all. If she needs the money, she may find it elsewhere.

I smirk when I remember Emelaigne’s face as I told her all of this. It was amusing, to say the least.

But it is almost breakfast time and I really must go now, no matter my own feelings. So I hold my head high, make sure one last time my hair is flawless, and head out the door. As usual, the servants linger and gossip in the hallways until they see me; suddenly the laziness is replaced with frantic bows and curtseys and them hurrying back to their work.

The king once told me that fear is not a good motivator, and that a kingdom should be ruled with love and care, but I’ve seen different.

Fear works. It makes people actually get up and do something productive with their useless lives. The way the king babies the people of Angielle angers me sometimes, because he treats them as if they are his own family.

Treats them better than he has ever treated me. Strangers, better than me.

Yet he still wonders why I did not welcome Ophelia and her kids into the palace when we were first introduced.

She only married him for the power and security anyway. After all, who could refuse the king?

But how could he claim to love a baker? How could he claim to love a woman so intently when I had never met nor even heard of her until he brought her to the palace little more than a year ago? How can he fall in love so fast?

How could he act as if Mother never existed? As if Mother wasn’t already the most beautiful, most graceful, most elegant, and loveliest? As if she was not the embodiment of perfection herself?

In fact, now that I think about it…I cannot remember any moment in my childhood where I have witnessed the king act as affectionately towards Mother as he now does with Ophelia.

I actually…cannot remember a single moment in which I have seen my father even _hint_ that Mother was important to him.

When he was married to Mother for years. _Years_. And had _me_ , a blood daughter, sharing his eyes.

But _no_ , he prefers a lowly baker with two grown children to take on as burdens yet treats them as proper royalty.

And her children? At least Rod keeps to himself, mostly. The only time I have seen him show any emotion towards me was yesterday, when Emelaigne was being particularly annoying when we went to town.

I was surprised, but I suppose it should have been obvious that he would take his sister’s side, no matter that she was in the wrong; making the king order me to accompany her and then acting as if we were becoming _friends_.

Emelaigne…she acts so sweet, so kind, so loving and selfless and it makes me want to puke. It is obvious she has taken everything my father has said about ruling a kingdom and infused it into her personality, in the hopes that one day the king will recognize her and proclaim her the crown princess instead of me.

She could never rule. She isn’t suited for it. Even the king, despite being lax with the subjects, can be stern with criminals and the like.

Emelaigne, however…hah, she would probably procure a promise to never commit crimes again, then send them on their way, pastry in hand.

Well, acting so innocent and joyful isn’t a technique that I will say will _work_ , not on my father and his advisors, but…after the outing yesterday…I do not think the people would protest if ever she became queen instead of me.

_They would probably prefer it._

Whatever. At least I know I am more suited for the role. Mother raised me to be the perfect queen. Emelaigne was raised in learning how to bake the perfect cookies.

She is like a child, really. If she _truly_ wants to be queen, she should take after me, and not her stupid mother.

She may have stolen the hearts of the people, but I don’t need their hearts to rule their land.

* * *

 

I pass Sir Mythros on the way to the dining room, and he bows to me.

“Good morning, princess,” He greets.

I feel no different towards him than I did yesterday. I am entirely distrustful of him, despite him being the king’s senior advisor, along with Sir Alcaster, the leader of the knights of the Order of Caldira.

Despite this, I offer him a nod and a “Sir Mythros,” as acknowledgement.

“In a hurry, princess?” Sir Mythros asks, wearing that same smile that just seems…slimy to me.

“I do not wish to be late to breakfast, Sir Mythros,” I say brusquely, and push past him. He speaks again though, when my back is to him.

“Well you are certainly more punctual than Princess Emelaigne…”

This grabs my attention. I turn my head to look over my shoulder at him and raise an eyebrow slightly. “Did you mean something by that statement, Sir Mythros?”

His smile becomes crooked. “Oh, nothing, princess. I was simply commenting on the responsibilities one must take in order to be queen. Some of those responsibilities are proper etiquette, are they not?”

“Of course,” I say. “But you must excuse me now.”

Sir Mythros gets a glint in his eye that I can’t quite decipher. “Of course, princess,” he says as he bows once again. “My apologies, Your Highness, if I have delayed you.”

I turn my head forward again and make the rest of the way to the dining room, wondering on the strangeness of Mythros’ statement. Of course, I know that Emelaigne has yet to learn many of the responsibilities that come with being a princess, which is of course part of the reason she is so unfit to be queen, despite what the people seem to think.

And yes, she is very lacking in etiquette; she has still not learned many simple rules that Rod has quickly picked up on.

But being punctual is not just a thing of royalty, as far as I know. It is not something only nobles and royals practice; it is a common courtesy to be on time. It is just an internal flaw Emelaigne has, to not have track of the time, no matter how many times she says, “Next time I won’t be late!” in that high-pitched voice of hers.

Did Sir Mythros purposely say such a thing to confuse me? Because he knew saying strange, random statements would make my head spin?

Oh, well, I’ll just forget about it.

_I should just be content that at least one of the top advisors seems to agree that I am far more suitable for queen than Emelaigne, and, dare I think it, Ophelia as well._

The servants open the doors when they see me, bowing as well. I ignore them, as usual.

Well, it turns out I am late this time. Even Emelaigne is here before me.

_Stupid Mythros, mumbling about punctuality and such nonsense. I always knew he was weird._

“Good morning, Lucette,” My father says from the head of the table. He tilts his head curiously. “Is there a reason you are late?”

 _He never asks Emelaigne why_ she _is late in such an accusatory manner. No, this voice is only reserved for me, the daughter he doesn’t love._

Why should I answer him? Do I have to answer him because he is the king? Because I am the crown princess?

Or do I have to answer because he is my father? If that is the case, then I won’t answer at all, because he has never acted as a father to me.

No, that role is reserved for Emelaigne and Rod only.

So I say nothing, not even a greeting back as I take my usual seat to the right of the king.

“Lucette…?” The king asks again. Again, I do not answer; I simply glance in his direction for a few seconds, nod slightly, then start my meal.

“Good morning, Lucette!” Emelaigne exclaims, as if I have made her day by showing up to breakfast.

_Maybe if you stopped trying to be the center of attention at all times and instead looked to your brother as an example, you wouldn’t be so irritating._

I send her a glare. Her smile falters but doesn’t drop completely.

“Good morning, Lucette.” Ophelia is the last to try to greet me, with a soft smile of her own. When I don’t respond, her smile does fall completely, unlike her daughter’s.

_I never respond to you with a “Good morning, Ophelia,” yet you act so disappointed every time I do not. Why do you put on such an act?_

Because it can only be an act. Surely she cannot think that if she just tries enough, tries just enough times, I may respond warmly?

That I may change towards her eventually?

 _“Change is unnecessary, Lucette. If people stayed the same, we would never have these problems,”_ Mother said to me once.

“Lucette, greet your mother,” the king says sternly.

_Ah, so he is more offended at my ignoring of his beloved wife than he is of my ignoring him?_

I do not know what comes over me, but the next thing I know I am saying, “How can I greet her? _My_ mother is dead.”

The king sighs, as he finally seems to realize I am in a worse mood than usual.

Well, who wouldn’t be, after the disaster yesterday, which was really all his fault?

But I have no desire to be scolded today, so I set down my silverware on my mostly uneaten plate of food.

“May I be excused?”

The king’s eyes harden. “You have barely eaten.”

“May I be excused?” I repeat, staring straight into his eyes and refusing to look away. Finally, he relents.

“Fine. Yes, Lucette, you may be excused.”

I stand up and walk out, still holding my head high.

As soon as I am out the doors, I hear a familiar, but not unwelcome, voice call out,

“Good morning, princess!”

I turn to face my personal knight, Sir Fritzgerald, and nod at him. “Good morning, Fritz.”

He really is the only person I can tolerate for any period of time.

We start making the trek back to my room, with Fritz following a few steps behind as he is supposed to.

He really has improved since he started three years ago. In terms of how he is with a sword, I only know that his skills are only rivaled by his father, Sir Alcaster, but in terms of how to behave as a knight of the Order of Caldira and the personal knight to the crown princess…well, he wasn’t perfect in the beginning.

Maybe it is strange, then, that I did not berate him for his mistakes. But that was three years ago, when I was still wallowing in my grief, and I did not care to pay attention to a knight, even if his job was to follow me everywhere and protect me.

Besides, I knew there would be no point to complain, because disregarding issues of etiquette, he really is the best for maintaining my safety, whereas a clumsy or lazy palace servant is an entirely different case and not beneficial at all.

“Was it the king, the queen, or Princess Emelaigne this time?” Fritz asks knowingly. I give him a sideways glance.

He always seems to know when I am in a bad mood. Or when I am in any mood.

He…at this time…besides my dolls…he really does know me best.

“All of them,” I say.

I know Fritz is shaking his head from behind me, even if I do not see it.

“I know it must be hard, princess. That is why…” He trails off.

“That is why…?” I ask, prompting him to continue.

He doesn’t answer, so I stop and turn around.

“What were you about to say?”

“I just…” Fritz avoids my eyes nervously, as if afraid of my reaction, “I just wanted you to know, princess, that as your personal knight, I am bound by oath to you and I will do everything in my power to keep you safe…and happy.”

_And happy?_

I blink.

“I…see,” I say finally as I swivel back around, and we continue to walk.

What else is there to say?

_Am I not happy?_

Regardless…it is nice, to be able to…trust Fritz. I think…I think he is probably the only person I really do trust right now.

But I cannot blindly trust him. Yes, he is bound by oath, and many knights seem to have become so out of a sense of duty and loyalty to the crown, but their intentions cannot be pure.

That is what Mother warned me of. That no one’s intentions, not even a knight’s, can ever be pure. There must be something Fritz wants or expects in return for his loyalty.

I cannot figure out what he wants to gain by serving me.

I need to clear my head.

“I…I am going to take a walk in the gardens, Fritz,” I say suddenly, turning on my heel and walking in the direction of my new destination.

He does not ask why, he simply nods and follows me out.

As we are about to walk through the doors leading to the gardens, however, a maid rushes up to us, panting heavily. I glare at her.

“What?” I say. It is not common for maids to approach me like this.

But when she curtseys nervously, she is looking at Fritz, not me.

“I-I am sorry, Your Highness, but Sir Alcaster has just requested to see Sir Fritz,” she says, head bowed.

I grit my teeth. “Must he see him now?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the maid says, visibly shaking. “He told me it is important.”

I ignore the maid and turn to Fritz, raising my eyebrows questioningly.

“I do not know what he needs me for, princess,” Fritz says, “But if he is calling for me now, it must be important.”

Sir Alcaster is the leader of the Order of Caldira and Father’s top advisor, but I am the crown princess. If I say Fritz cannot go, then he will have to stay with me.

But…if it truly is important…

Besides, I really do wish to be alone.

I nod once. “You may go.”

He smiles at me gratefully. “Thank you, princess. I will send for another knight to take my place temporarily.”

I nod and he bows, before turning around and walking off. The maid runs off with a quiet, “Excuse me, Your Highness,” and I walk through the doors to the garden.

I admire the flowers, particularly the lilies, as I walk. When I told Mother they were my favorite, she had extra lilies planted for me.

_Mother…if only the accident never happened._

I barely notice the knight who comes to replace Fritz, standing at the edge of the path, looking all around me, as is his job.

I am brought out of the peacefulness, however, by Emelaigne’s voice.

“Lucette!”

_Ugh. If she is going to invade my sanctuary here I really should have just gone to my room._

I turn towards her, narrowing my eyes. She is panting, as if she has just run the whole path. I notice she is clutching a wrapped gift with a blue bow on top in her hands. I wonder if I have forgotten someone’s birthday, or maybe it is the birthday of one of her friends from town and she is on her way there now.

So I am surprised when, as she recollects herself, she holds out the gift in her hands. Towards me.

“What do you want?” I snap, not in the mood for her overly-friendliness.

Emelaigne takes a step back at my tone. “I only wanted to give you this,” she says quietly, as if I am the one at fault, as if I have genuinely hurt her.

I want to scoff at this. As if she got a gift for me out of the good of her heart.

More likely, she is trying to just get closer to me so that she can betray me later and use anything she knows to her advantage.

“Well I don’t want it,” I say, not caring about the hurt look in her eyes or the way all the happiness seems to seep out of her.

But it is not true sadness. It can’t be true sadness. She is only sad that her efforts are failing, not sad at my continued rejection of her friendship.

I expect her to turn around, perhaps walk back to her room, head hung low, but she smiles once again, though it doesn’t reach her eyes.

Emelaigne holds out the gift again. “Even if you don’t want it, Lucette, I insist you take it. I bought it, and I have no use for it, and no one else I know has any use for it, so it would be best not to let it go to waste, right?”

“Why today?” I ask, narrowing my eyes, “There is no special occasion today. It is not my birthday, nor is it a holiday.”

“There doesn’t always have to be a reason to give someone a gift!” Emelaigne says, still smiling. “Besides, we’re sisters now, and I really just wanted to get you something. On your birthday, I’ll make sure to get you something even better!”

I sneer at her. “We are _not_ sisters, no matter what you seem to have convinced yourself. So just go back to your room and wallow over your regret at wasting your money,” I say, before turning away from her, intent on continuing my walk without the irritating girl by my side. One would think she was eleven, not nineteen, by the way she acts sometimes!

“Lucette!” Emelaigne grabs my arm, catching me by surprise and forcing me to turn back around and face her. “I really want you to have this. I…don’t know if you’ll like it but…I hope you will at least give it a look and give me a chance.”

And before I can protest, she slides the hand that was gripping my arm down to my hand, holding my palm as she places the small package in it before turning around and running back down the path as quickly as she came. I am still in shock to process what just happened so I can go chase after her.

_No doubt she is running so that I have less chance of catching up to her and throwing the “gift” at her feet anyway._

I stare at the gift in my hand, contemplating. I certainly did not expect Emelaigne to be so persistent as to forcefully hand me the gift. She’s always so mild; while her words are loud and attention-grabbing, she rarely acts so boldly.

Should I open it?

_What’s the worst that could happen? It is not likely to be a magical object, so what is the harm in opening it?_

Besides, while Emelaigne may pretend to be my friend (and the friend of everyone in town…) I do not think she is malicious enough to give me an object that will hurt me.

Well, to put it better, she is simply not clever or crafty enough. She has not seen enough of the world.

_Well, neither have I, but Mother was there to teach me through her own experiences. Ophelia, on the other hand, has taught Emelaigne nothing, letting her do as she pleases._

I am curious, though, so after another moment of contemplation, I untie the ribbon, noting that it is blue, my favorite color.

_It’s simply coincidence. There is no way for Emelaigne to know it is my favorite color._

I unwrap it, surprised by what I see.

Emelaigne…got me a doll. But it’s not nearly as pretty as the ones I have in my room, and it is rubbish compared to Delora, my favorite doll.

In fact, it looks very similar to the ones I saw yesterday in Viorica’s shop. I wasn’t particularly paying attention, but…

_Didn’t Emelaigne buy something there?_

Was that her reason for going? To buy me this?

Well, that can’t be her only reason. She obviously went because the she is close to the shop girl. But I did think it was odd that she was buying a doll, considering that she much prefers her books.

What had she said?

“ _I’m here to get some toys. Gifts for some new friends.”_

I almost throw the doll into the ground right then and there. Friends? Who does she think she is? That we are _friends_?

I don’t need friends. I have myself, and that is enough.

But suddenly I remember. A whisper of a memory. Of sewing a doll. It looked terrible.

But then I kept sewing and sewing until I got better. I haven’t sewn in a long time.

I…miss it.

I remember…a vague memory…

_“You’re so bad at this!”_

_“As long as you keep guiding me, I’m sure I will get better, Little Star.”_

I shake my head. What was that? Why do I feel…as if I have just remembered something important?

It…shouldn’t matter, really…but I have felt, very often, that…I can’t remember things sometimes about my childhood. Emelaigne is always chattering about her childhood with Rod and her town friends. She remembers some things in such detail.

But…for me, the only things I can remember in detail are memories of Mother. Not interactions with servants, or with Father, or with the knights, or anyone else. The other memories are all…fuzzy.

And I feel…that there are some things that I should remember, but I don’t. As if they are just out of my grasp.

And sometimes, when I wake up from a particularly bad dream, I feel that I have remembered something, but I quickly forget by the time I am awake.

I used to think nothing of it…but then how can Emelaigne recall her childhood so well? When I can’t?

Is this not normal?

I shake my head again. It does me no good to think about that.

But what to do with the doll?

Well…

I remember that old doll I have in the bottom of my drawer. It really is nothing more than rags and beads sewn together with string that has become worn out.

Why do I even keep it? I cannot even understand myself, but whenever I think of throwing it out, part of me feels such sadness of losing such a thing that I refrain from doing so.

But I still cannot understand what compels me to keep it. It’s as if…it’s part of another memory that is just out of reach for me.

I take another look at the doll Emelaigne gave me. It’s not as pretty or made of as high quality material as my dolls on my shelf, but it is nowhere near the grotesqueness of the old doll I keep in my drawer.

I wrap the doll once more, tying it back up with the ribbon. I…do not want Emelaigne to see I have…accepted her gift, so I rush to get back to my room. Oh, how I wish this dress had pockets.

On the way, I pass Rod, who is heading in the opposite direction. He simply flicks his eyes over to me, barely acknowledging me, which is unusual even for him. Usually he will at least nod in my direction.

I suppose he is still angry after my treatment of Emelaigne yesterday, or possibly this morning as well, but surely he must realize his sister was being much too insistent. She should know when to stop trying to be my friend.

But then his voice calls out towards me.

“Lucette.”

I swivel around. “What?” I say sharply.

He gestures to the gift in my hand. “Did Emelaigne give that to you?”

I lift my chin. “That is no concern of yours. If that is all, I will be on my way.” Before he has a chance to say anything more, I turn on my heel once more and walk quickly back to my room.

Once I am in the safety of my own room, sitting on my bed, I carefully weigh the wrapped doll in my hands, unsure.

_Should I keep it?_

It would ruin the look of my shelf, but then, I could always just place the doll in the very back, unseen. Or I could just put in in the drawer with the older one.

Then it hits me.

 _Why do I care so much about a doll_ Emelaigne _bought for me?_

I guess it is because it was very unexpected. It is not hidden knowledge that I like dolls and that I have a large collection of them, so it is not unlikely that she has known about my interest for a long time.

But I am still surprised. The only people who had ever gifted me dolls were Mother, before, and now Father.

But what Father gives me on my birthday is just obligatory. I am his daughter, so of course he has to get me a gift for my birthday. It is nothing special.

But…Emelaigne? It is not my birthday, nor is it any holiday or special occasion. And I certainly did not get her anything when she turned nineteen.

Neither did she get me anything when I turned seventeen. That was just after Father married Ophelia and she and her kids were brought into the palace. There was a grand feast for me, as usual, but unlike all the other ones, most of the nobles’ attention was taken by the new members of the royal family.

_What is so special about them anyway? Ophelia is a baker, taking over her husband’s business after he passed several years ago. And Emelaigne would have taken over when she was older._

_But then Father disrupted all of our lives by “falling in love” with that woman and bringing her into the palace._

I wonder…what does that love feel like? Mother always said the only love only exists between a mother and her daughter, so I wonder what Father actually feels for Ophelia, when he has fooled himself into thinking he loves her, as if this is a Fairytale.

It’s almost like that one tale I heard the servants talk about. I did not read many before Mother burned them, but I have heard about several others.

There was the one about the poor girl who goes to a ball, finds a prince, and after she loses a glass slipper and he searches for her using the shoe, they eventually marry.

_It’s such a dumb tale. It only encourages people to be lazy and wait around for life (and a prince) to be handed to them. But I guess it came true for Ophelia._

Eventually, I decide on just throwing the gift, wrapped up again in its yellow paper and blue ribbon, into my bottom drawer where the older doll still resides.

“Hello, Delora,” I say brightly, when I have put Emelaigne’s doll away.

Well, it is now mine I guess, but I am still tempted to throw it in Emelaigne’s face when I next see her. The look of shock on her face would be well worth having the servants and Rod notice me carrying it around.

For the servants gossip like crazy. They pretend they don’t care about anything that goes on here, but I suppose their work is really that boring that they have to amuse themselves by gossiping about the royal family.

But they're not working at the palace to entertain themselves, they're here to work, and they should do what they are being paid for.

I stand up and pick up Delora from where she resides on my shelf; the topmost shelf and in the middle and front of the row. She deserves that place, she is so pretty and lifelike.

 “I’ve neglected you today, haven’t I?” I say, brushing her hair away from her face. “I’m sorry. I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

I go over to my door and open it a crack, frustrated when I still see Fritz’ replacement instead of himself guarding the hallway outside my door.

I shut the door and plop onto my bed, still holding Delora. “It seems Fritz still isn’t back yet. I wonder what business was so important that Sir Alcaster needed him so urgently and for so long.”

Soon, lunch is delivered to my door.

_At least I only have to spend two meals a day with the rest of them. At least for now, I can relax._

“Emelaigne gave me a doll today,” I say to Delora, who is standing neatly on my bed as I eat. “She’s nowhere near as gorgeous as you, though. I thought about throwing it away, but I felt compelled to keep it, so I threw it in the drawer. Mother would be disappointed in me. She would say only to accept gifts from her, because she is the only one that loves me.”

I pause. “But then, Father gives me a doll every year and I accept it. I guess Mother would be _really_ disappointed. But then if didn’t accept Father’s gifts, I wouldn’t have you.”

“Why did Emelaigne get me something anyway?” I ask, after the servant comes to collect my empty plates. “I know she is naïve, but she can’t be stupid enough to think I don’t hate her. Even she’s not that dumb.”

I flop backwards, holding Delora to my chest. “I wish people would just stop pretending and be honest. If Father would stop pretending that nothing is wrong and that he loves me…if Ophelia would stop pretending to be my real mother…if Emelaigne would stop acting as if she herself is the crown princess and that she is better than me…”

I close my eyes, remembering what happened earlier today in the garden, how Emelaigne seemed…genuinely sad. Which is weird, because I am sure she is just pretending, but is she really that good of an actress?

“Delora…I remembered something today. Something strange,” I breathe out. “I remembered that old doll I keep in the bottom of my drawer, oh it’s been here for years so you wouldn’t know it, but it’s old and ugly and I don’t know why I keep it. But then I remembered…I think I was talking to someone. I used to sew, you know, and I remembered talking to someone. It was just very brief…but I think I felt happy then, when I was saying it, even though I sounded very annoyed. They were trying to sew but it wasn’t going very well. But I still felt…happy.”

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “I wonder if it was a real memory. Or if it was just a weird daydream, like my dreams coming into my waking life. I wouldn’t like that. Maybe I really should see a doctor about my dreams?”

I immediately shake my head at that. “No, I couldn’t go to a doctor. Even though I can’t sleep lately…I doubt a doctor could make it better.”

I stare at the doll for a while. She really is so lifelike. It’s so easy to talk to dolls, because they can’t betray you. They can’t turn on you and take all your secrets to turn against you.

“I wonder what it feels like to be happy. It’s been so long since I’ve felt that way, I’ve forgotten how it feels…” I blink, blocking the tears from coming. It’s been a few hours, surely…?

I roll off my bed, setting Delora back on her place on my shelf. “I will go see if Fritz is back.”

I open the door a crack, and open it wider when I see who is standing outside of it, on guard as usual.

“Fritz!” I say. He turns to me and smiles.

“Good afternoon, princess.”

I step fully outside my room, crossing my arms. “What took you so long?”

He frowns. “I apologize, princess. It seems my father’s business took much longer than I thought.”

“So what did he need you for?” I demand. He deflates at this.

“I-well, it was mostly things about me keeping up to my task-”

“Your task being guarding me at all times, your task within which your father decided to call you out of just to talk to you _about it?_ ” I say incredulously.

He smiles apologetically. “I am sorry, princess. I can’t seem to…remember the specifics of it. Ah, but there were some things that are considered confidential, so I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

I huff. “I’m the crown princess, why are there secrets being kept from me?” At this, Fritz stiffens and avoids my eyes.

I narrow my eyes. “And what do you mean you can’t remember? You just came back from meeting with him, how can you not remember?”

He shrugs. “I am not getting any younger,” he says, as if that alone explains everything.

I shake my head. “You’re not that much older than I am.”

He tilts his head, considering. “You’re right, princess. I apologize if I insinuated that you were old as well.”

“No, we are both young,” I say, and he grins.

“What are you smiling for?” I ask. Honestly, he smiles all the time. It is not as irritating as Emelaigne’s, however, because he is not as bubbly and attention-drawing as she is.

He is just…well, in a world of cruel people, he is an exception. Mother warned me that most people will just betray others if the opportunity arose, yet I can’t imagine Fritz betraying me.

Fritz’s smile just seems to grow at my question, though.

“I am conversing with you, princess. There is nothing more enjoyable.”

_What?_

I scoff. “Stop exaggerating.”

“Oh, but I am not exaggerating, Your Highness. I really do enjoy whenever we talk. I can only hope that you do not dislike our conversations.”

It…it can’t be that he truly means it?

But…Fritz is honest. That is one thing I have gathered from knowing him for three years. And he has never shallowly complimented me, nor has he said empty words to any other person in any interaction I have seen him in.

So…does he mean it? Does he truly find _nothing_ more enjoyable than talking with me? Despite how everyone else in this palace fears me, hates me?

I shake my head. “Whether you are exaggerating or not, no, I do not dislike our conversations. Surely you are smart enough to realize that? If I didn’t like talking to you, I would simply not talk to you at all.”

He smiles, scratching the back of his head. “You’re right, princess. That was a dumb question. I am honored that you like talking to me. I always thought of myself as quite boring.”

I blink. Is Fritz boring? Well, he’s not bubbly like Emelaigne, neither does he ooze false kindness like Ophelia, and he is not always wallowing in guilt and apologies whenever he sees me like Father. He is also not quiet, solitary, and emotionless like Rod.

“Well, sometimes boring is good,” I say to him. “It’s better – safer – than anything else. Sometimes it can be easier to trust boring.”

“I will take that as a compliment, princess,” Fritz says. “Thank you.”

“Um, you’re welcome?” I say unsurely. He just laughs. A passing maid looks between us with wide eyes, as if she cannot believe a knight (correction: _anyone_ ) is laughing in my presence, before she quickly hurries along.

I am wondering the same thing, though.

Why is my simple not-really-a-compliment making him so happy?

When he quiets down, he looks at me seriously. “I am also honored that you trust me, princess. I promise I will always be here to protect you. I will never let any harm come to you.”

“I expect nothing less,” I say truthfully. He _is_ my personal knight after all, and Sir Alcaster’s son, only second in ability to his father.

“Thank you, princess,” he says, bowing his head. Is it just me, or do I detect a hint of guilt in his eyes?

“Well, good afternoon, Fritz,” I say, before opening my door again. He bows.

“Good afternoon, princess.”

I slide into my room, sprawling onto my bed.

“Delora,” I say from my bed. “Fritz is acting weird. Or maybe it’s just me, but I’ve known him for three years, so I feel like I at least know his mannerisms and such.”

I sit up. “I mentioned people keeping secrets from me and he started acting weird, looking away from me as if he is guilty.” I bite my lip. “Is Fritz…hiding something important from me? Something that is relevant to me? He cannot be feeling guilty if it is something simple, or something that doesn’t really concern me at all.”

I flop back down. “And what about that meeting with his father? He was gone for so long, and all Fritz says is some vague things about keeping me safe, then that he can’t tell me the rest, but _also_ that he can’t even remember part of it!”

I sit up again and glare at my dolls, as if they are the offenders. But I know my frustration is misguided; they’re dolls, and they didn’t do anything.

They also can’t feel, so I’m at perfect liberty to be as mean to them as I want to be.

Not that I am mean to them.

“Am I not the only one with memory problems, now? Except I can remember everything that happened to me within the past few hours. How strange is it that he claims he can’t remember some things from a supposedly _important_ meeting with his own father that occurred _within the past few hours_?”

I consider. I thought I could trust Fritz but…

“Delora, can I really not trust Fritz? He’s the only one besides all of you I feel comfortable talking to, the only one I can actually tolerate…but if he is not telling me the truth…ugh, he really could have just said he couldn’t talk about the meeting. He didn’t have to lie! Mother was right. Even people who appear the most honest…you can never trust them. For if he’s bothering to hide something from me…that must mean it is something important that has to do with me. And if he won’t tell me, then Mother really _was_ right about people like him.”

I flop back down on my bed one last time, deflating. I want to trust Fritz. I want to trust that he isn’t keeping things from me, things that I should know, that he doesn’t have any malicious intent towards me.

But how can I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know the whole point of the story is that through the curse Lucette learns to be good, but I started wondering if there was a way she could still turn out at least somewhat nicer if she was never cursed, and then just how much character development might even happen if there was never a curse at all.  
> And then I started wondering who to pair her up with, because if she never goes to live at the Marchen, she never gets to know Karma, Rumpel, or Waltz. So unless she just runs into them in town (which we all know she doesn't willingly visit...), there really isn't much of a potential for pairing her up with them. And then as I started writing this chapter, I ended up having her talk a lot to Fritz (because he's her knight so obviously he's always around), and then I realized how much I love Fritz, and how I wish his route (SPOILER!) wasn't so sad, and I felt that he was overshadowed by Varg, but I mean...I wanted a Fritz route, not a Varg route, not that I don't like Varg.  
> So I decided to give Fritz some justice and explore his character and maybe add in some backstory because all the other characters had some backstory except for Fritz I mean there was so much potential like exploring his relationship with his dad and how he became a knight and everything!  
> Sorry I'm rambling, lol, I just wanted to explain my thought process as I started writing this.  
> And yeah, I know that Waltz is technically the true ending, and I honestly really loved his route (I loved all of them not gonna lie) so I may end up writing something with him one day, who knows. :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this! I wouldn't consider this some of my best writing, but I've been busy with school and stuff but I also really just wanted to get this out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Second chapter! I'm actually graduating in like five days so I should probably be studying whoops.

The next few weeks pass by in a blur. The only thing of note to mention was the next day, when Emelaigne knocked on my door after breakfast was over.

I had opened the door, affixing an irritated look on my face when I saw who it was.

“Um, I heard from-from some others-they said you took my gift up to your room?” Emelaigne asked hesitantly, biting her lip.

_Why does she care so much?_

I had felt infuriated. First, I started to realize that maybe I cannot trust Fritz, then Emelaigne came to my door because she was that insistent that I receive her gift.

So I left her at my door, dug around my bottom drawer, and threw the gift in her shocked face.

“I did take it up to my room. But it was taking up too much space, so you can have it back,” I had said, spitting the words out in her face.

Later Rod took it upon himself to ask me why.

“Why what?” I had asked, leaning against my door, arms crossed.

“You didn’t have to do that. If you didn’t like the gift, you could’ve just given it back to her earlier. Or even thrown it in her face when she gave it to you, if you really wanted to do that. But instead you gave her some hope, only to crush that hope right as it was growing.”

And then he had glared at me, and I was slightly surprised for this was the first time he looked at me that way, and shook his head slightly. “You know, you really are cruel. I’ve wanted to say this for so long, but Emelaigne wanted me to be nice to you. But I can’t act nice anymore. So I’m going to be honest; I hate you.”

And then he had stalked away, and I had been too stunned to say anything back.

How could he hate me? What have I done?

Does he really think I am cruel? Emelaigne was the one being pushy, when I have made it clear time and time again that I do not want her friendship, and it seems the only way to get her to leave me alone was to make it _extremely_ clear.

_And just a few days ago I was thinking Rod wasn’t so bad._

Well, he is still not as bad as his sister. And at least he is honest about hating me, unlike a certain someone who insists on pretending she wants to be my real sister.

_She just wants my position._

But the next few weeks pass without incident. The days flow into one another, so it is hard to distinguish one from another. I wake up, endure breakfast, attend lessons some days, while others I go to the garden, and others I go back to my room. I am accompanied by Fritz the entire time.

Fritz has been speaking with me a lot more lately, and I do not mind, but…I am still suspicious, though, ever since that day I realized he was hiding some things from me, but he is still the only person I can tolerate, and I do not want to lose him so quickly.

_Mother really would be disappointed._

I let out a sigh. But she’s not here now. If she were still here, I wouldn’t have to wonder about who to trust. I would only trust Mother, and she would sort out all the bad people. She would be able to tell me very quickly whether Fritz was to be trusted or not.

_Trusted with what, though? Because I can surely trust him with my life but…to trust him with my thoughts…_

He has told me, several times in fact, that I could talk to him if I wanted to…

It will be weird talking to someone besides my dolls but…

I sigh.

_Mother, I need you._

“Is something wrong, princess?” Fritz asks, approaching me.

We are in the garden. I am sitting on a bench, admiring the different flowers. Technically, he doesn’t have to stay so near me when I am in the gardens; just close enough to block any possible attack and watch out for intruders, but Fritz has been approaching me a lot more often ever since I admitted that I liked conversing with him.

I can’t say I mind, though.

I shake my head at Fritz’s question.

“Princess,” Fritz murmurs. “I know I have said this before but…you don’t have to keep it all inside. You can always talk to me. If you want, I mean. You don’t have to, princess.”

_Perhaps I can…?_

I decide to broach a subject, but about him, not me. I still don’t know if I can trust him fully.

“Fritz, you are not very close with your father, are you?”

He blinks, then sighs. “I did not think you noticed, princess.”

“You rarely talk about him, and I have never seen both of you together,” I say, starting to list off what I have noticed within the past three years. “This is a large palace, yes, but considering you both work here, one would think you would try to see each other more often. After all, Emelaigne never fails to find me when she wants.”

He lets out a chuckle at that, but I continue.

“And the only time I have observed your father wanting to see you was a few weeks ago, but that was only on urgent business.  So, it is not hard to come to this conclusion.”

Fritz closes his eyes for a few moments, then opens them again. “I…I am surprised, princess, that you have made all of these observations.”

“You are my personal knight,” I say, crossing my arms. “I have known you for three years, it would be surprising if I didn’t notice these things.”

“You’re right,” he says, smiling. “After all, I know so much about you as well.”

I blink, not expecting this turn in the conversation. “And what exactly do you think you know about me?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

He chuckles. “Just things.”

“I didn’t know it was in your nature to be so vague,” I say.

“Well that was a vague question, princess,” Fritz says. “There are so many things I know about you it would be impossible to list them all.”

I scoff. “Whatever. But back to my original question…?”

The smile drops from his face. “Why do you ask, princess?”

“I am merely curious,” I say. Because as much as I have noticed about him, I do not think I really know all that much about Fritz. I do not even know if I can trust him.

And…I am not close with my father either. Emelaigne and Rod…from what I have heard them and Ophelia say, they were both close with their father before he died.

And apparently, it is normal to be close to one’s father.

So Fritz and I are apparently exceptions.

This is strange, as Mother used to say the only true love that exists is between a mother and her daughter.

So it really should be normal for people to be distant with their fathers, right?

Even though I don’t say any of this to Fritz, he still smiles anyway.

And maybe he really does know me a little because he seems to know that I’m asking for many more reasons than being curious, but he doesn’t ask to hear those reasons.

No, he simply smiles sadly and answers. “No, we’re not close. We don’t really see each other except at night, when we both return home.”

“Home?” I ask, surprised. “I was under the impression you lived here.”

For many knights lived in their given rooms in the palace. Many were too far from home, or they had too much to do in one day to take the time to go home and back.

Fritz shakes his head. “No, our home is close by. And my father always makes sure to come home, no matter how late it is or how early he has to leave for work.”

“I see,” I say, because there is nothing else I can think of to say. I wonder…

_Does he ever feel as…empty as I do?_

Because I know his mother passed away years ago.

His mother is gone, and his father is distant…

 _It sounds very familiar,_ I think, feeling that Fritz’s and my situation are more similar than I thought.

But Fritz is not like me. He is less cautious of people, more willing to help them. He is friendly with everyone, even Emelaigne and Rod. He never pushes me to get along with them, but he will say things here and there that I know are meant to soften my opinions of the siblings.

He gets along with everyone. He has a positive view of the townspeople, even after witnessing how they stared at me when I went out to town a few weeks ago.

“Princess?”

“Yes?”

“You…forgive me if I’m presuming too much, but…you are lonely, are you not?”

“What?”

_What? Am I lonely? But I’m surrounded by people. Emelaigne cannot leave me alone. The king insists on talking to me at random times._

He lifts a hand behind him to scratch at his head nervously. “I-I am sorry if I said too much, princess.”

I shake my head slowly. “No, you’re fine.”

“Thank you, princess.”

Well, I do spend most of my time alone. But…I feel this…emptiness even when I am in the presence of others.

“Fritz, what would you say is the difference between being lonely and being alone?”

He tilts his head to the side, contemplating. “There isn’t a concrete difference, I would say. One can be alone and lonely at the same time. But, conversely, one can be alone and not feel lonely, or they can feel lonely even when surrounded by people.”

_Feel lonely even when surrounded by people._

That is how I feel, isn’t it? This feeling of emptiness.

Fritz smiles at me. “If you ever feel that the loneliness is overwhelming you, princess, I am always available to talk.”

“You’ve already told me this, no need to repeat yourself,” I say. I do not have a bad memory, after all.

“Right, sorry, princess,” Fritz says, still smiling. If it were Emelaigne, she would have been frowning by now. That girl is much too sensitive.

Fritz, still standing, suddenly does frown. He stares at no point in particular, seeming lost in his head.

“Fritz?”

He slowly shakes his head, as if clearing some thought. “I’m sorry, princess. I just…I keep feeling as though I am forgetting something. Something important. It is as if the memory is so close, yet…”

“Yet it is out of reach? Right outside of your grasp?” I finish for him. He looks down at me, surprised.

“Yes. That is exactly how it feels, princess.”

“I…I feel that way too, sometimes,” I tell him finally. I can trust him, right? It is not as if this information can be used against me, anyway. “I feel that I should remember some things, but I can’t. There are only gaps in my memory that I can’t fill.”

He tenses, as if he wants to say something, but then relaxes once more. “I…had no idea, princess.”

“How could you know?” I say sharply. “I haven’t told anyone.”

“Then I am honored to be the first you have trusted to tell me this,” Fritz says, looking as if he wants to say something more. As if he wants to tell me something but he is being held back.

I simply nod at him, not knowing what else to say. It is strange how similar Fritz and I are; our mothers are both gone, our fathers distant from our lives, and we have problems with memory.

And yet, we could not be more different.

* * *

 

It has been another few weeks, and every night, the dreams come back with more impact and fervor than ever before. I seem to wake up every morning with tears running down my face and breathing hard.

I can never seem to remember the exact content of these nightmares, only that most have to do with Mother.

Are they old memories coming back? Or are they just figments of my subconscious, determined to torture me?

Fritz has been acting…even more strange. He has started avoiding my eyes when talking, has started to retreat back into himself when I try talking to him.

And yet he said that it was nothing when I had asked.

He is hiding something, for sure. I know I should not feel hurt at this; that I should have known he wasn’t to be trusted.

But I feel hurt anyway. Mother would be disappointed.

I just…if this secret had nothing to do with me, if it was just to do with him, then he could just tell me that he does not want to tell me.

But instead, he insists there is no secret, that he is not acting weird, that there is nothing wrong.

The only reason he would lie so directly to me is if it concerned me directly, right?

Besides, all those times he has said I could talk to him, yet he doesn’t even feel that he can talk to me and return the favor?

No matter, I just won’t concern myself with Fritz anymore. I have other things to worry about.

This morning the king summoned me to the throne room.

“You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?” I say.

The king smiles as he sees me. “Yes, Lucette. I…understand that your trip into town a little more than a month ago wasn’t exactly pleasant.”

“That is an understatement.”

He frowns. “But I do not think you really experienced the town as you should have. That is why I hope you will accompany Emelaigne tomorrow on her visit into town.”

“Again?” I ask, clenching my fists. “Wasn’t putting me through that torture once enough for you?”

“That you see it as torture is exactly the problem, Lucette,” The king says. “I want you to see the town for what it is. The people are not out to hurt you. It is unfair to assume the worst of them without trying to even look for the best.”

“Really?” I say incredulously. “Then why do they all hate the mere sight of me? Tell me, _Your Majesty_ , what is I have done that they all despise me so? You know what is unfair? That they all hate me despite the fact that I have only stepped foot outside of this palace twice in my life. So, no, I am not going.”

“Lucette…” The king deflates, and a guilty look appears in his eyes. “I am sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not being the father you needed. For not keeping the hate away from you…” He sighs, looking away.

“Ah, so _you_ know the reason, yet you do not tell me? Do I not deserve to know?”

“Lucette…” He looks guilty, but it is probably fake emotion.

_Is that all you can say?_

“It doesn’t matter. I cannot believe anything you say as truth, anyway.”

“Why do you assume I will lie to you? Have I given reason for you to distrust me?”

“You have given me no reason to trust you. You were never there for me when I needed you,” I say, staring daggers at him, “So how do I know that anything you say won’t be just another way for you to make excuses for yourself?”

“Lucette, I…I am sorry. If I could turn back time…”

“It doesn’t matter now,” I say, waving away what he was about to say. “But as it stands, I will not accompany Emelaigne.”

“You went before.”

“Only because it was an order from the king,” I correct him. “I would not have gone if it were up to me.”

“If it has to be an order again, Lucette…” My father trails off, giving me a meaningful look.

I shake my head. “If you are truly sorry, _Your Majesty_ , then you will listen to me when I say it was torturous. If you are truly sorry, you would not want to put me through that torture again.”

The king closes his eyes for a few moments, takes a deep breath, then opens them again. “Lucette, please, just one more time.”

I clench my fists. Does he not realize how horrible it was the first time? I should never have left the palace, yet he wants me to experience the same hate and disgust that I experienced before?

I sigh, then look straight in his eyes. “This conversation has made one thing abundantly clear. I am not your daughter, and you are not my father.”

The king’s eyes widen. I have thought this many times, but this is the first time I have ever said something like this so directly to him. “How can you say that, Lucette?” He asks, alarmed. “Do you not-”

“I will go with Emelaigne, so you can stop pretending to care for me, _Father.”_ I spit out the last word mockingly. “Am I excused?”

The king looks as if he is at a loss.

I have never seen him this way.

_Do I really have such an effect on you? Or are you just faking?_

_Mother would say you were faking._

Then he just shakes his head, resigned. “Yes, Lucette, you are excused.”

* * *

 

I manage to reach my room before the tears come. I muffle my cries in my pillow, hoping that a passing maid or knight or other servant will not hear me through the door.

Finally, when the tears have stopped falling and my eyes are rubbed raw, do I raise my head and face my shelf. Face my shelf, with my ever dependable dolls.

“Why is it that he can know me my entire life, yet not hold any love for me, when he has only known Rod and Emelaigne for little more than a year and yet they have become the world to him?”

There is no answer, as usual.

I wipe my eyes, even though the action is pointless as I have already rubbed them over and over until I could not feel anything.

“I wish you could respond to me.”

I turn back to my pillow, and as I do, I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye. For a brief, fleeting moment I think Delora is moving, but when I look back, she is as still as ever.

_Probably just a trick of the eye. It is just because I am wishing for them to be alive that I am imagining them moving around…_

I turn onto my back and stare at the empty ceiling. I am not looking forward to the afternoon, because my lessons take place in the library at the same time as Emelaigne’s. We have separate tutors, of course, as she still needs to learn much in terms of etiquette and the politics of being the leader of Angielle, while I am far ahead of her.

Well, it is still several hours until lunctime, so I have even longer until I have to see her face again.

I am not looking forward to it.

* * *

 

As I walk to the library, I run into Fritz, who decides to accompany me there.

“What is wrong, princess?”

I huff. “The king has ordered me to accompany Emelaigne to town. Again.”

Though he is slightly behind me, I hear the momentary stop in his footsteps, before he continues.

“When?” Fritz asks.

“Tomorrow morning. The king was…much more insistent this time.”

“I am sorry to hear of this, princess,” Fritz says, and he sounds sincere. As if he truly cares for me.

_Does Fritz really care for me? Outside of it simply being his job as a knight protecting the princess, does he really care for my well-being?_

“Nevertheless, I will make sure no harm will come to you, princess.”

I sigh. “You said the same thing last time.”

“I…am sorry for not protecting you from the gazes of the townspeople,” He sounds…sad.

_On my behalf?_

“But you can rest assured that if any of them were to act on their…feelings…I will not allow any of them to step near you,” Fritz continues. “So you do not need to fear them. I know it will be hard to relax…but as long as I am there, you can do so without worrying for any danger.”

“I do not fear them,” I snap.

“I was only saying this just in case you did.”

I stop walking, clenching my fists again, trying to keep from shaking entirely. “The king…did not listen to any of my protests. He did not listen to any of my reasons, as if none of them are valid.”

“I think you have plenty of valid reasons to not wanting to go to town, princess,” Fritz says quietly, stopping at my side. “Especially after the last trip. I…do not want you to only see the town negatively - I grew up there, after all - but your reasons for disliking the town are completely understandable.”

“The king does not think so. In his eyes, I am being irrational. He will not even tell me why the townspeople hate me so much, even though I am almost certain he knows the reason.”

“Princess…” Fritz clears his throat, then tries again. “Princess, there are many things my father keeps from me as well. But instead of dwelling on those things, I like to focus on what I know will make me happier, not bitter.”

“Are you saying I am bitter?”

“I-well-no-I just,” Fritz sighs, rubbing the back of his head. He comes to stand in front of me, looking down at me gently. “I just wanted to tell you what I do. Because it is unfair that he is keeping such large secrets from you, and seemingly for no reason…but I find that if I dwell on the things my father keeps from me, I may go crazy. So I decide to just focus on the positives in life.”

“What if you do not have any positives?”

He smiles. “I used to think there were no positives. But then, even small things can help. Such as when I went to this bakery for the first time and tasted their pastries for the first time; there was so much flavor I had not experienced before! It quickly became my favorite bakery. Or the smell of the forest right after it rains; I do love that smell. These small things helped me feel at peace. Then there were some bigger things, like when I won my first duel with my teacher. Soon, I started recognizing the major positives in my life that I could look forward to, such as how I was able to become a knight even though I wasn’t trained from a young age like the others. Or…that I was able to serve you, princess, because you have brought so much light into my life.”

“I…have?”

 _How could I have? Everyone hates me. Even my own father holds no fondness towards me. Yet,_ Fritz _says I am a_ positive _in his life?_

His smile is so sincere, though. I want to believe him. I want to believe that someone actually cares for me, that someone in this world is not simply waiting for the right moment to strike me once my back is turned.

“Of course you have, princess,” Fritz says as if it is obvious, as if I hear this statement every day.

For a few more moments, I still do not know what to say. Until I finally bring myself out of my speechlessness and manage a quiet, strained, “Thank you, Fritz.”

His smile widens, and he looks so happy at my expression of gratitude.

_How can I make him look so happy? This cannot be real. It has to be fake. No one has ever been this happy when I am around._

“Princess, aren’t you going to be late for your lesson?” Fritz asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

My eyes widen. “I…yes, I should probably get going.”

We have been talking for far too long, it seems. I don’t know why, it is just…easy to talk to Fritz. I don’t feel irritated, even when he talks for a long time, unlike with Emelaigne. I…don’t mind listening to him speak, even if for a long time.

I continue walking at a faster speed. Even though I am the crown princess, meaning that I cannot really be reprimanded by a tutor for being late, punctuality is still important. Mother hated lateness. She always got very angry whenever I was even just a moment late.

Fritz doesn’t speak until we reach the library. “I hope the rest of your day goes much smoothly than this morning, princess,” he says as we part ways.

I nod at him, then enter. The tutor does not say anything about my lateness, deciding to just get striaght to the lesson.

When Mother used to teach me…she would have hated that I was even just a few minutes late. She would have taken away some of my dolls for a few days.

Mother had the right idea about discipline. Ophelia lets her children get away with too much, and the king himself is much too passive. That passivity only extends to the rest of the kingdom.

On the other hand, Mother was a much better leader. She didn’t allow weakness in herself, in me, or in the citizens of Angielle. And we were a much better kingdom for it.

When I finish my lessons, Emelaigne is waiting by the door, big smile on her face.

“Lucette! I was waiting for you to finish!”

My constant rejection of her friendship still has not deterred her, even though I am sure Rod continues to try to discourage her from it. He does not talk to me at all, now; he simply glares when I have to tell Emelaigne off for being too pushy.

If anyone should be hated, it is Emelaigne, not me. Rod is much too loyal to his sister to listen to sense, though.

“What do you want?”

Her smile does not falter. She seems to have grown immune to my curt tone. “Father said you were coming to town with us tomorrow! I am so glad! And grateful, of course.”

I glare at her. “Don’t act so naive,” I say. “You know he ordered me to go. If it were up to me, I would never step foot outside of the palace again.”

I cannot help but also hate how easily she says “Father” when I rarely refer to him as such even in my head.

_Did you not have a father of your own? It is not as if I call Ophelia “Mother.”_

_She can never be my mother._

And yet the king has so easily become the father of Rod and Emelaigne, yet he has never been a father to me.

It is only now that Emelaigne’s smile falls. “Even so, thank you for coming anyway. I know…it is unpleasant for you. I promise I’ll try to make the visit better this time.”

I scoff. “Don’t make empty promises. If you feel bad, just make sure to make the visit as short as possible. Or better yet, don’t even leave the palace at all.”

She shakes her head. “I could never be like you, Lucette. I adore the town.”

I raise my chin. “Well, at least it keeps you away from me. Most of the time, at least.”

Her eyes widen. “Lucette, I…I _want_ to spend time with you, and you say you would rather I stay far away from you?”

“That is exactly what I am saying,” I sneer, pushing past her into the hallway. “My day would go much smoother and much happier if I never had to see you at all.”

* * *

 

The next day comes much too quickly. Emelaigne pulls Rod with her and the guards follow, with Fritz and I following at a slower pace.

The entire carriage ride was quiet, providing me with at least some peace of mind.

It was strange, though, considering how much Emelaigne likes to talk.

As I expected, Emelaigne leads us to the toyshop first, enthusiastically greeting the shop girl, Viorica. Her quiet mood dissipates as the two talk. Strangely, though, Rod’s own greeting seems much colder than the last time we were here. I notice him clenching his fist before hiding it behind his back, his shoulders remaining tense.

Oh, well, it does not matter to me.

“Being engaged suits you!” Emelaigne says brightly, while Viorica blushes. “When’s the wedding?”

_She is engaged? So quickly?_

“We haven’t set an exact date yet,” Viorica says, “But Decimond and I are planning for sometime in a few months.”

I hold in the urge to sigh. I have no interest in listening to them chatter.

What surprises me is when Rod leaves the shop, saying he will wait outside. Even Emelaigne looks surprised.

“I will go wait outside as well,” I tell her, and walk outside, Fritz on my heels, before Emelaigne can respond. I find Rod leaning against the wall, looking sullen, but he looks up when he hears us step outside.

“Is Emelaigne done?”

I shake my head. Then I raise my eyebrows. I don’t care one way or another why Rod is acting this way, but it would be nice to provoke him. “I’m surprised, Rod. I didn’t think _you_ disliked Viorica.”

He glares. “I do not dislike her. What makes you think that?”

“Well, from the way you just acted, it’s obvious,” I say. He scowls and I roll my eyes. This is getting boring fast. It is only then that I turn my gaze to the main street of the town, where there are clusters of people here and there.

I prepared myself this time for the stares, for the looks of hatred. Disgust. Fear. I suck in a breath.

_I thought I prepared myself._

Fritz follows my gaze. “Ignore them, princess. No harm will come to you as long as I am here.”

I hear Rod scoff from next to me and swivel to face him directly. “Do you have a problem with me being safe?”

“I don’t care one way or another what happens to you,” he says. He looks as if he is about to say something more, then shakes his head and sighs.

“Prince Rod!” Fritz exclaims, shocked. “I-I am sorry, but do you really not care what happens to our crown princess?”

Oh, right. Fritz does not yet know that Rod has put his hatred out in the open. For I am sure he has always hated me, and as he said, only never let it be known because of Emelaigne.

But now he has let that facade drop.

“Leave it, Fritz,” I say, “After all, I hardly care what happens to him either.”

Fritz looks between the both of us, bewildered. He has known for a long time how much Emelaigne irritates me, everyone does, but I suppose it is new to him that Rod has now started to irritate me as well. He deflates. “All right, princess.”

We stand in silence for a few more minutes. I take this time to observe all the different shops on the street that I didn’t pay attention to before, ignoring the several customers going in and out of Viorica’s shop.

_Think about positives, huh…_

Well, some shops have nice colors painted on their walls, I guess. I try not to think of my trip to town with Mother four years ago, but I do remember that the buildings were all drab with peeling walls, grey and brown being the prevalent colors throughout.

I guess many people decided to make their shops more colorful after the war. It makes sense, anyway.

It still doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.

Emelaigne walks out and smiles when she sees us. The strange mood she was in before we went to Viorica’s shop seems to have disappeared completely, with Emelaigne back to her normal cheery self.

“Ready to go?” Rod asks. Emelaigne nods and skips ahead of us, with Rod following her. Fritz lags behind with me.

“Are you all right, princess?” He asks quietly, so that only I can hear.

“Yes, why?”

“You seemed lost in your head for a bit.”

"I was just looking at all the shops.”

Fritz smiles. “Yes, the town is very pretty to look at, isn’t it?”

I shrug. As we keep walking, I am distracted by a wonderful smell coming from one of the shops. I look at it closer, noticing it seems to be some sort of bakery. Fritz stops when he notices I have stopped walking.

“Are you hungry, princess?”

I look away. “It does not matter. We will be back at the palace soon.”

“This is my favorite bakery, you know.”

_Should that make a difference to me?_

“What’s wrong?” I hear Emelaigne’s voice call.

She and Rod have made their way back to us, having just noticed we haven’t been following them.

“Oh, nothing, I was just telling the princess about my favorite bakery,” Fritz says with a grin. Emelaigne gets a sparkle in her eye.

“Oh, should we go in? I heard they have delicious cupcakes,” She exclaims, clapping her hands together excitedly. “And that their croissants are to die for.”

_Croissants?_

Fritz must have noticed me perk up, because he chuckles gently. “Ah, yes, their croissants are amazing. They have all sorts of different pastries as well.”

_Well, I am hungry…Although the palace’s food is made by top chefs…how could a simple bakery compare?_

Emelaigne beams. “My mouth is watering just hearing about it. Come on, Rod, Lucette!”

Fritz holds the door for us as we enter. As he follows inside behind me, I hear him say, “I apologize if you did not want to go in, or if I drew unnecessary attention to you, princess.”

I shake my head to silence him.

_If Emelaigne goes in then it doesn’t matter what I want._

Emelaigne starts happily chatting with the man behind the counter, who bows both to her and Rod with a smile on his face.

 _Does she have to make friends with_ everyone?

I ignore her and focus on the different pastries, fully aware of my growing hunger. It is only when I lower my hood that the baker notices me, and he gets the same expression on his face I have seen from everyone in town.

Anger. Fear. Disgust.

He bows quickly. “Your Highness, I am sorry I did not recognize it was you at first.”

I stare blankly at him. The baker frowns but quickly recovers when he sees Fritz behind me. “Sir Fritz! It has been a while.”

“It has,” Fritz agrees with a smile. “How is your family doing?”

_Fritz never striked me as the kind of person who pretends to be interested in other people’s lives…not like Emelaigne does…I suppose that he must frequent this bakery often enough to be close with the owner._

“They are well,” the baker says. “And your father? Still very busy, I’m sure.”

Fritz chuckles, but I can see that the usual crinkles by his eyes are not there. “Yes, as can only be expected. But we are not here to talk.”

_Thank you. I almost thought this conversation would last as long as Emelaigne and Viorica’s._

“Of course, of course! What would you like?” The baker asks brightly, turning to the rest of us. While Emelaigne and Rod make their selections, Fritz turns to me.

“I simply love the croissants they have here, they are my favorite,” he mentions.

“Very well. I will have a croissant,” I say, and Fritz looks startled.

“Really, princess?”

I nod, and he smiles happily.

The baker tells us to “please come again!” as we pay for our food, and I catch Fritz giving him a handshake before following us outside.

The four of us exit the bakery, with two of the guards waiting outside. I cautiously bite into my croissant, surprised by the burst of flavor in my mouth.

_Well, at least I can trust Fritz’s taste._

“I can certainly see why this is your favorite bakery, Sir Fritzgerald,” Emelaigne says, biting into her own cupcake as we make our way to a crowd. “Don’t you agree, Rod?”

“Yes, they’re very good,” Rod says, the tension seeming to leave him the farther we get from Viorica’s shop.

“And what do you think, Princess Lucette?” Fritz asks.

_Is he being hesitant? Why?_

“It’s…good.”

Emelaigne squeals at this and Rod raises his eyebrows.

_What? Is it strange what I said?_

But Fritz simply smiles and says, “I am glad to hear it, princess.”

Emelaigne, however, quickly distracted, hovers over the edge of the crowd. “Oh, it’s that street performer! Waltz, I think!”

At her voice, many members of the crowd turn to us, and when they see who we are, they all move away to make room for us. Emelaigne blushes and thanks everyone as she leads us into the center, where I see the same boy that made lilies appear the last time I was in town.

It doesn’t seem like he’s just a magician, though, as this time there is a small stage that Waltz is setting up, and I notice that the front of the crowd is mainly populated by children.

“What is this?” I ask Fritz. He leans over to answer me over the sounds of of the audience.

“A puppet show, I believe, princess.”

_A puppet show, huh?_

Well, I suppose I might as well watch it. Emelaigne seems excited about it, and we all have to follow her whims at the moment.

I am surprised, actually, by how many adults have gathered. Aren’t puppet shows for children?

_Is this what you wanted me to see, Your Majesty? People lazing around watching shows for children instead of doing their jobs?_

And didn’t he say the people of Angielle work day and night to restore the kingdom? I don’t see that anywhere. All I see is them out to enjoy themselves; as Mother said, people only care about themselves.

I tune out most of it, until I hear the boy - Waltz - mention witches.

His story is ridiculous. He talks of good witches working together with fairies. What is he trying to prove?

I said what I said to my father back then, about a month ago, before my last trip into town, mainly to contradict him. That didn’t mean that I believed there was such a thing as good witch. They created the war, they are the reason that Mother never let me leave the palace when I was young, they are the reason that my father spent more of his time looking after the kingdom than looking after me.

The show ends, and the crowd starts to disperse after an applause, except for many of the children who swarm Waltz. He looks in our direction and his eyes light up. “Is that the princesses and prince over there? I am honored that you have once again seen my performance!” He says with a bow. Emelaigne smiles and compliments him on the show while I turn to Fritz.

“We should go back now,” I say. “If Emelaigne does not want to, yet, I am perfectly okay with splitting up.”

“Princess…” Fritz frowns. “Okay. I will escort you back.”

Emelaigne looks down, hands clasped in front of her, fidgeting. Finally she looks up at me. “You really don’t like it here?”

I roll my eyes. “Did you think another visit would change my mind?” I look her up and down, sneering. “You really are more lacking in intelligence than I thought.”

“Lucette!” Rod says. He clenches his fists and glares, taking a step towards me. Emelaigne grabs his arm to pull him back. “Don’t worry about it, Rod. Lucette wants to go back, that’s fine. Father didn’t say she had to stay with the me the whole time, anyway, right? And…I think right now…I would rather just visit the rest of town with Rod only. But…we only have the one carriage.”

_Emelaigne voicing that she doesn’t want to spend time with me? That’s a first._

It always feels that anything I say, anything I do, Emelaigne will not let go of some delusion that we can be friends. Maybe now she is finally starting to give up on that.

I’m still surprised, though. I have never heard her utter any negative word towards anyone; this is probably the closest she has gotten to directly expressing her displeasure towards me.

“We finally agree on something,” I say, then turn to face the direction in which I know is the palace. “Come on, Fritz. We will walk.”

Fritz looks conflicted, but he follows dutifully as my guard back to the palace. It is only when we are inside and walking towards my room that he speaks.

“Princess…” Fritz takes a deep breath, then starts again. “Princess, I am not sure why exactly you wanted to come back early, but I was under the impression that this trip was not going as badly as the last.”

“It…wasn’t,” I acknowledge. I was able to ignore most of the stares this time, now that I knew they were coming, and the bakery wasn’t bad, exactly, although I still think the show was ridiculous. “But I simply had no desire to remain.”

He nods. “I am glad, then, that it did not go as badly. But…your mood seemed to worsen, during Waltz’s show.”

“It was nonsensical,” I explain. “The witches started the war, and yet this boy is telling people that there are good witches? And the children’s parents are perfectly okay with this?”

Fritz frowns. “I…I am not entirely sure how to feel about his show either, princess. But, I _have_ met a good witch.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really,” I say skeptically.

He smiles. “Really. She can be…unkind sometimes, but I know that on the inside, she is truly a good person.”

I scoff. “You are naive if you think like that. That someone is simply ‘good’ deep down inside. You almost sound like Emelaigne.”

Fritz just keeps smiling at me, as if there is something he knows that I don’t. “I know her well enough to know she is good. And Princess Emelaigne is truly trying to be your friend, princess.”

I shake my head. “She is too kind for any of it to be genuine, Fritz.”

“Princess…there _are_ people that care about you,” he sighs. “I know that with the way the townspeople have treated you, and your own distance from your family, it might seem impossible…but we _do_ care.”

“We? Are you including yourself in that?” I ask.

He smiles. “I have served you for a long time, princess. You have become important to me.”

“You only serve me because it is your job.”

“Ah, yes, but even if it wasn’t my job anymore, I would still do everything I could to keep you safe.”

“Maybe _you_ are being sincere, but most people are not. I’d rather not take the risk,” I say.

“I…” Fritz frowns. “I understand, princess.”

Fritz excuses himself, bows, then walks away as I enter my room, mentally and physically drained from the day, and there is still plenty of daylight left in the day!

I crumple onto my bed. “Delora…” I start, then sigh and roll over to face my shelf with the aforementioned doll. “Is there such a thing as a good witch? There was a boy putting on a puppet show today who talked of good witches.”

Silence.

“I really do wish sometimes that you could talk.”

More silence.

“I mean, sure, humans started killing witches first, so it was their fault the war started, but if there isn’t a such thing as a good human, how can there ever be a good witch?”

I bite my lip, deciding to change the subject.

“Is Fritz being honest when he says he cares? Or is he just trying to get me to trust him? I cannot figure him out, Delora. Because he says he cares…he says things that imply I am important to him but…I think - no, I am certain - that Fritz is hiding something from me.” At this, I cannot help but deflate. I know what Mother would say. I know what I have been telling myself.

But…I still wanted to trust him. And the way he acts…I wanted to believe he is genuine.

But it is difficult to trust someone who is most surely keeping secrets from me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner!  
> I know this chapter is a bit disjointed and stuff...but I still hope you like it!

It has been over two months since my second trip to town. I needed some fresh air so I am currently walking in the gardens.

My mind wanders to Fritz. He has been disappearing a lot lately, and I haven’t seen him at all since before breakfast three days ago.

The knight that showed up in his place after breakfast told me Fritz was “sick.”

_This is strange. He has never been gone for so long before._

He has fallen ill before, but very rarely. Yet he always recovers quickly.

_Fritz, what happened to you?_

I…I am worried for him. He is…Fritz is…

_He is…something._

For now, the knights have been placed on shifts to guard me. I decide to focus on the flowers, the lilies, instead of on Fritz. I breathe in the smell of the beautiful flowers, reminded of a simpler time.

_“Do you love the lilies, darling?”_

_“I do! I do!”_

_“If you learn this perfectly by the end of today, Mother will plant you more flowers.”_

_“Yes, Mother.”_

I don’t even realize I am crying until I hear my name being called.

“Princess Lucette!”

I blink at the familiar voice, reaching up to face, feeling the tears. I hurriedly wipe them away and turn around, shocked.

In front of me stands Fritz, smiling hesitantly, though the look quickly turns concerned when he sees my face.

“Princess, were you – I mean, are you alright?”

“I am fine,” I say, turning my face away slightly.

Fritz looks as if he wants to say more, but thinks better of it. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

I nod gratefully. “You were sick for a while.”

“I was…” Fritz’s eyes grow dull. “Yes, I…”

“You what?” I ask.

He shakes his head, seeming confused. “I woke up this morning and my father told me I was sick for the past few days. But I don’t remember anything. It just feels like I was sleeping for a very long time.”

“What kind of ailment did he say it was?”

“He…didn’t…” Fritz furrows his eyebrows, “He didn’t say exactly.”

“You have been acting very strange,” I say, looking up at him, not bothering to hide my eyes anymore.

He frowns. “I’m sorry if I have been, Princess. I certainly did not intend to.”

I sigh. “Well, it is good that you have recovered.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Fritz says, and this time his smile is full and genuine. “Oh, I have this for you.”

For the first time I notice a small box clutched in his hand. He holds it out to me and I take it slowly, tilting my head up at him questioningly. Fritz simply smiles and tells me to open it.

I open it, not knowing what to expect, but certainly not expecting two croissants.

“Why, Fritz?” I ask, trying not to show how much my mouth is watering at the smells wafting from the box.

He smiles. “I bought them from my favorite bakery, you remember the one we went to?”

At my nod, he continues. “I wanted to cheer you up; you’ve seemed, ah, exceptionally melancholy for a while, and also it is as an apology for being gone these past few days.”

That was true, I _have_ been in a worse mood than usual, and I…I _have_ missed his presence in his absence…so I simply nod and say, “thank you,” which makes his face light up like nothing I have seen before.

I neglect to inform Fritz that my melancholy mood is partly because of him. Because he has been disappearing so much, because he is being so secretive.

A croissant won’t hurt me, though, and I highly doubt he has poisoned them or some such. I grab one of the croissants from the box and hand it back to him.

“Princess?” Fritz asks, scrunching his eyebrows together.

“You can have the other one,” I say. “I am not very hungry.”

His eyes widen, but he quickly recovers. “If you are sure, princess…” Fritz smiles. “Then I must thank _you_ now.”

I sit down on the bench, and after a moment, I invite Fritz to sit down as well. He hesitates for a bit, but eventually seats himself next to me. For a while, we say nothing, just enjoying our croissants and the nice weather.

“It rained a few hours ago,” I say. “You like the smell, don’t you?”

“Princess…” Fritz smiles sheepishly as he reaches up to scratch the back of his head - a gesture which I have become much too familiar with. “…I did not realize you remembered that.”

“I remember a lot of things,” I say refraining from mentioning that I remember almost everything he says.

He chuckles, but there is a dispirited undercurrent to it. “Unfortunately, I seem to be suffering the opposite. Sometimes I come to, not knowing how or why I am where I am, or what I was doing, and only later realizing that some time has passed. I thought at first it may just have been sleepwalking, because most of the time I would wake up at night or early morning out of bed without knowing why, but now these lapses in memory have started occurring during the day as well.”

“So…you weren’t necessarily ill? You think it was one of these ‘lapses in memory?’”

Fritz shakes his head. “I am not sure. My father told me I was bedridden for most of it, that I wouldn’t come to no matter what. But these lapses in memory…I _know_ that I have moved from one place to another, because I often wake up somewhere I wasn’t before.”

“Perhaps you should see a doctor,” I say, brushing my hands of the crumbs from my finished croissant.

He shakes his head again. “I doubt that what is ailing me is something a doctor can fix. There is nothing that can fix an ailing brain, after all.”

“You think your brain is ailing?” I ask, and I cannot help but feel some concern at this.

“I am sorry, princess…I have been trying to hide my concerns, but I know you have noticed…I actually have seen a doctor, and he had no idea as to why this is happening to me, especially since I am still young…but he surmised that it is an illness that I will inevitably succumb completely to. I went to several other doctors with some hope…but they all said the same thing. I am sorry, I know I said I will always be there to protect you, but I am afraid that soon I will have no memories left.”

“You can still protect me even if your memories run out,” I say.

“Princess-” Fritz starts, but I cut him off.

“I am sure that even if you cannot remember where you are or why you are there, you will not forget your skills with the sword,” I point out. “Anyway…you…I cannot imagine you not being by my side, protecting me. It would feel strange if you weren’t there anymore.”

I glance sideways at Fritz, whose cheeks have become a tinted red, and he is stuttering.

“P-princess…I am…”

“It is only because you have served me well these past three and a half years,” I clarify, feeling heat coming into my own cheeks. “I cannot imagine another knight with your caliber. Even though you were gone for only a few days, your absence was noticed greatly.”

Fritz coughs, then speaks. “I am honored, princess, that you think so highly of me.”

I make a noncommittal noise as I stare up at the sky, noting how pretty the shade of blue is.

* * *

 

The next morning after breakfast, I am informed by a maid that I am to report to the throne room.

_If this is another town visit…_

But what else could it be? The king only ever wants to see me when he decides I need to “bond” with my stepfamily more.

Trying to ignore the pang of irritation I feel, I push open the throne room doors to see the king, looking down at me with his forehead creased.

_What is making him so anxious?_

“Ah, Lucette, how are you?” He says, attempting a smile.

“You saw me not even half an hour ago,” I point out. “And I am sure you did not call me here for simple pleasantries.”

“Lucette, I simply wanted to make conversation-”

“Which you could have done at breakfast, but Emelaigne and her books were more important,” I say, cutting him off. “Why did you call me here?”

“I have something important to tell you,” he says slowly.

_So it isn’t another order to go to town? Good._

 “Lucette…” He clasps his hands together. “You are turning eighteen soon. That’s why I thought…it’s about time you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“About your mother.”

I tense. “What about her?”

I am not ready to hear slander against her. When the king told me he had something important to tell me, I assumed it had to do with, well, with me. But if he is only going to talk about Mother and how I should accept Ophelia as my new mother…

I huff. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Lucette, please. This is important,” the king pleads. I shake my head.

“I said a few months ago that you are not my father. You have no right to speak about Mother to me. I highly doubt you even knew her that well. How can you know anything about her that I do not already know?”

“Lucette…it isn’t like that, I promise,” the king insists. “I know that…you do not trust me. But if you were to trust one thing, even just one thing that comes from my mouth, it should be this.”

“I would prefer to trust nothing that comes from your mouth.”

He closes his eyes for a few moments. “I know you think you knew Hildyr well; she was your mother after all, but…I did know her, very well, in fact. She…was not exactly the person she presented to you, Lucette.”

My hands become fists, and I realize I am shaking. “You! How can you say such a thing? Mother was the only one who loved me, she was the only one whom I could tell everything to, she was the only person I could ever trust. She never lied to me, unlike you.”

“Lucette,” The king’s eyes become sad, but I continue.

“Did you…why did you even marry her? It is clear to me now that you did not feel for her what you do for Ophelia, especially how you simply discarded any memory of her, how you never comforted me in my grief…you never loved her, did you?”

“Lucette, I…” The king’s expression is pained, and he looks as if he does not know what to say.

“Mother was right,” I snarl. “Love like that is just a sham. I never should have hoped that you would be there for me, I should have heeded Mother’s warning. You never loved her, and you don’t love me. Isn’t that why you married Ophelia? So you could forget about me and replace me and Mother with them?”

“It isn’t like that, Lucette.” The king smiles gently, but it looks forced. “You…I care so much for you, Lucette. I know that I neglected you horribly during those times, and there is nothing I regret more than that. But…I want to be there for you now.”

“I do not need you. I realize that now. The only one I ever needed was Mother.”

He blinks, and I notice his fingers slowly curling together. “Lucette…I am sorry.”

“I’m not. I’m glad that your true nature has been revealed.”

I do not care to look at his shocked face as I spin around and walk out of the throne room, heading back to my room, burying my face in my pillow.

_Why am I crying?_

I look up at my shelf, wiping the tears away. “Why, Delora? Why did he marry Mother? He did not love her. He does not love me.”

_Why?_

* * *

 

I am not much in the mood for dinner with the others tonight, but I cannot show that this morning’s conversation has affected me.

Part of me still wonders what the king wanted to say to me, but it probably really was just lies about Mother, because he truly cannot bear to see me offend Ophelia.

If Mother were still alive, the king wouldn’t even bother me at all.

I sit down at my spot, ignoring the greeting from Ophelia and sending a glare right back at Rod. The king himself enters just a few moments after, smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Emelaigne, predictably. She comes bursting through the doors a few minutes later.

_Can she not even manage to make it to dinner on time?_

“I’m so sorry I’m late! I was-”

“Reading a book and lost track of time,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, we know.”

She blushes and shakes her head at this. “Actually, I wasn’t reading a book this time. I just, I, uh, I was in the gardens and lost track of time. The weather was so lovely today!”

I scoff and focus on my food.

Suddenly the doors burst open again and I focus my glare to the doors, wondering who on Angielle decided it was a good idea to interrupt our meal.

My eyes widen when I see who it is - Sir Alcaster, and, behind him, a large collection of knights. My eyes automatically skim over them, looking for Fritz, but I do not see him.

_Maybe it is good he is not here. Because whatever this is, it doesn’t seem like a good thing._

The king abruptly stands up and narrows his eyes at the interrupters. “Sir Alcaster! What is it?”

“Round them up!” Alcaster barks at his men, who move closer to us, surrounding the table.

“What is the meaning of this, Alcaster?!” The king glares at the man. “Why are you doing this?”

Clearly the king has caught on to what is happening much quicker than the rest of us. I shake my head in the confusion of it all. Why is Alcaster here? Why is he…why is he ordering us to be rounded up like criminals?

_Fritz, are you part of this?_

Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him at all today. He has fallen ill several more times since we spoke in the gardens; once for longer than a week.

_Maybe he truly wasn’t to be trusted, if his own father is doing this._

I feel something rough grab my arms and force them behind me and I cannot help but yelp at the sudden movement. The person holding onto me yanks my arms up, forcing me up from my chair, before pulling me down to my knees on the floor.

I see that other knights have done the same to Emelaigne, Rod, and Ophelia. I feel the gritty texture of some sort of rope being tied around my wrists, holding in the urge to wince. We are all also being held by multiple knights, so much so that we could not escape them even if we broke our holds.

Emelaigne is whimpering, Rod is scowling, and Ophelia has silent tears streaming down her face.

I, however, keep all emotion out of my face. I do not want to show weakness. They are all weak.

Especially the king, who doesn’t bother to hide his anger and confusion that shows clearly on his face. His eyebrows are knotted together, and as he stands next to his chair, surrounded by a circle of knights, I can tell that he is quickly losing hope.

“Why, Alcaster?” The king asks again, hopelessness seeping into his voice, as one of the knights roughly grabs his arms to tie behind him.

I know that the king knows how to fight, but being surrounded by a group of fully-trained knights - by the looks of it, an entire half of the knights of the Order of Caldira - quickly ensures he could not defend himself even if he had a sword or other weapon.

Alcaster walks right up to the king, still being held back by multiple knights, now, and sneers in his face. “You are a weak king. The people of Angielle need a strong ruler who rules with an iron fist.”

The king’s face hardens. “And you believe that ruler is you.”

It is a statement, not a question, but Alcaster nods anyway.

“I will bring the kingdom back to what it once was. When the people didn’t rule their king, but the other way around.”

_Wait a minute…_

I…have long since agreed with these sentiments. And yet, overthrowing the king has never occurred to me.

Possibly because I knew I would become queen eventually so I could simply implement those ideas when I did, but also…because it is so needless. Alcaster is one of the king’s most trusted advisers. Why, then, is he not content with the fact that he holds so much influence over the king already? Why does he thirst for more power?

“Queen Hildyr had the right idea,” Alcaster continues, and my stomach lurches at the mention of my mother. “She made the kingdom productive. Nowadays everyone is so lazy because they know their king will do anything for them. But the kingdom shouldn’t care so much about the individuals at the expense of the sustainability of the kingdom; do you not care about the future of Angielle? About what state you will leave it in when Princess Lucette becomes queen?”

The king’s eyes find mine, and I sense the urgency in them. The worry. The…fear.

_Does he fear me too? Just like all the townspeople?_

He is no better than them, but I have always known that. It seems every moment I am in his presence I find another reason to distrust him.

But…Fritz. What about him?

“And the knights?” I say, speaking for the first time since the start of breakfast. Everyone’s heads turn to face me, even the servants who cower along the walls.

_Cowards._

“How did you convince so many to follow you?” I ask, genuinely curious. And I wonder, then, if Fritz is with them. If he’s known about his father’s plans this entire time. If he’s actually a part of these plans.

If this is what he has been hiding all these months from me.

_I knew I could not trust you. I knew there was an ulterior motive to acting so loyal and friendly to me._

And yet I cannot help the shattering of my heart at the revelation that the secret Fritz has been keeping from me is much larger and dangerous than I imagined.

Alcaster laughs, his mouth twisting into a smile. “They know when to listen to logic. And princess, I know you are a person of reason and logic. I am not averse to putting _you_ on the throne.”

I raise my eyebrows at this. My hands are being stretched much too far behind me to be comfortable, straining my muscles, and the rope is chafing against my wrists so hard I think they may bleed soon, but I still raise my chin haughtily.

“And that is why you have me tied up as a prisoner? Because you want to see me on the throne?”

And then Emelaigne laughs. Actually _laughs._ “I never thought you could make a joke, Lucette,” she says.

 _We are becoming prisoners in our own home and_ this _is what you focus on?_

But on closer look, I see the pained look on her face as well, and I realize; we all know we are powerless at the moment, and lightening the mood is her way of regaining some of that power.

Alcaster sneers and I feel the rope around my wrists tighten.

“Silence, all of you!” He barks. “You will all be escorted back to your rooms.”

Across from me, a voice that has spoken about as sparsely as I have speaks up.

“So, you aren’t intending to kill us?” Rod asks, his eyebrows twisting together.

Alcaster gives that same twisted grin, and I cannot help but make note of how different it is from Fritz’s eye-crinkling smile. “Not yet,” he says tauntingly.

I hold in a gasp as the knight that was holding onto me forces me to stand up again.

* * *

 

I have been pacing back and forth in my room for a while now, not knowing what to do. It has been a few hours since I’ve been escorted back to my room, and Alcaster only stopped by briefly to speak with me. He listed all the merits of joining his side, then left to give me “some time to make up your mind.”

On one hand, Alcaster is a traitor to the crown. On the other, his ideals fit my own, and he has said himself that he would not oppose my rule. He even informed me that if I agreed to his demands, I would be given freedom and the crown.

But…can I really believe him? With the way he had his knights treat me at dinner…I cannot imagine that he any more respect for me than he does for the others. If he really wanted me to be queen, having his knights capture me, tie my hands behind my back, and shove me around like some common criminal was not the right way to bring me to his side.

For now, I am a prisoner in my own room. There are several knights outside my room, far enough to give the illusion of nothing wrong but close enough to listen in if they tried. I can only assume that the same is true for the rest of the royal family.

It has only been a few hours, and I am sure that the people of Angielle do not know what has happened yet. Even the servants that witnessed what happened were most likely silenced in some way. Alcaster said he wants to do this with “as less bloodshed as possible,” as long as the royal family cooperates.

Meaning, if my father publically abdicates the throne and “willingly” hands it to Alcaster - or me, if I cooperate.

“What do I do Delora?” I ask in a soft voice, not wanting the guards to hear, as I stop my pacing to stand right in front of my shelf. It is only then I realize how ridiculous this is. “How stupid of me to ask you. You’re nothing. You’re just a doll!”

“Doll, princess?”

I stumble backwards, just managing to catch myself from falling. I could’ve sworn the voice came from…but, no, that’s impossible! I look around the rest of my room carefully, wondering where the voice could be coming from.

“It really is coming from me, you know, believe it or not.”

That voice…it is coming from my shelf. From the top part, specifically.

I stand up straight and march over to the shelf, leaning in close to Delora. Did her mouth just curve up?!

“Yes, it really is me, princess.”

This time I really do fall to the ground. Strangely enough, I don’t feel any impact with the hard floor; instead I feel cushioned and there is no sound as I collide with the floor.

I look under my legs, noticing the purple glow.

“I just saved you princess; that would’ve been a nasty fall, not to mention the sound would have brought the knights right in here.”

“Who are you?” I whisper. There is another purple glow, and I think I see…a diamond pattern, and suddenly there is a tall woman standing in front of me, dressed in a similar outfit to my doll, down to the sleeves to the cape to her dark wavy hair and red eyes…

I stand up. “Y-You-How?”

The woman in front of me - Delora - smirks. “Hello, princess.”

I finally piece together everything. “You’re a witch, aren’t you?”

The woman’s smile widens. “That’s right. You _are_ a smart one.”

“And you’ve-you’ve disguised yourself as my _doll_ for, what, a year?!”

“Hush!” The woman cries, before I see another purple glow extend from her fingertips and suddenly the entire room is encased in a thin glow. She catches the look on my face and elaborates. “It will help keep the sound in this room.”

“You’re…not with Alcaster?” I ask. I wouldn’t put it past Alcaster to ally with a witch, but if she’s trying to keep his guards from hearing us talking…she must be here for some other reason.

She laughs as if the idea is ridiculous. “No. I have no respect for the man.”

“Well I can certainly understand his ideals,” I refute, before crossing my arms. “And why didn’t you use the sound spell earlier?”

She shrugs. “I needed to regain enough energy. And enough time. I haven’t used major spells like that in a while, you know. Not much you can do as a doll on a shelf.”

My face contorts in anger, as the fact that this woman is, indeed, my doll Delora sinks in completely. Now that I know there is no danger of being overheard, I yell at her.

“Why are you in my room?! Why have you been watching me?! What do you want with me?!”

All the while the woman stays standing, arms folded, smirking.

It dawns on me then that this woman knows everything about me. Well, not everything exactly…but I have told her so many things. So many private things, I have cried in this room, I have voiced my suspicions about Fritz, I have talked about Mother and about the king and Ophelia and Rod and Emelaigne…

She knows everything. And she could use it against me.

So one of my dolls _has_ betrayed me.

_Wait…_

I eye the other dolls on my shelf suspiciously. “Are any of them witches too?”

The woman laughs. “No, no, they’re all real dolls.”

I round on her. “You have yet to answer my questions!”

“Now, now, princess, one at a time. First, my name is Delora. Yes, I used magic to influence you to pick that name for me, because I wasn’t in the mood to be called something else for who knows how long…I am in your room because…well, it’s a long story, but the main gist is that I wanted to get to know you.”

“Why, so you could bring me down later?”

She shakes her head slightly, still wearing that infuriating grin. “No. Or, you could say that, yes, in a way. We wanted to see if you were cruel like your mother, or if there was still hope for you. I…intended to curse you, actually, but I decided to stick it out another day and I saw you accept that gift from Emelaigne and you threw it back to her later but…I saw some goodness in you that day, princess.”

“ _Curse_ me?” I exclaim, picking out those two words out of the torrent of words she’s just threw at me. She chuckles.

“Yes, we wanted to test you. We wanted to teach you goodness.”

“And how is goodness fooling me for an entire year, listening to all my secrets, then only revealing yourself when the palace has been taken over and I have no way to defend myself? Oh, not to mention, the fact that you did all this to _curse_ me?!”

“Sometimes things aren’t always good and bad, princess. We were…desperate.”

I register the rest of what Delora said. “Who’s ‘we’? And what do you mean cruel like my mother? She wasn’t-”

“Okay, next question! Sorry we don’t have time for this right now, maybe later I’ll tell you all the details. Why I was watching you…I already said, it was to see if you had capacity for good or not…and right now I don’t want anything with you, except for maybe save you from this predicament you and your family are stuck in.”

_Okay, I will hold you to that. I will make you tell me all the details when we have the time._

“You…want to save us?” I ask, having calmed down from my previous outburst. In all honesty, I am ashamed of myself. I rarely lose my composure like that, but finding out that my favorite doll is actually a witch in disguise and she has been watching me for a full year is jarring enough to warrant that reaction.

Delora’s smile becomes a bit gentler now. “Yes. I am sorry this happened. We…as in, some friends of mine and I, have been suspicious of some of the happenings in the palace for a while now, and that’s another reason I snuck in. When I knew that no one would be in your room for a while, I would sneak out and investigate a little. It was hard to find anything, though. I wish I found something earlier. I could have helped prevent this, and for that, I am sorry, princess.”

_A witch? Apologizing to me?_

“Why do you feel bad about not saving the palace? Aren’t you all enemies of the crown?”

“Some witches are. Some aren’t. I am a good witch, you know.”

“As if those empty words mean anything to me-”

“Ah, but don’t you remember a conversation not so long ago? You wondered about good witches, didn’t you, princess?”

I glare. “If you’re just going to use everything I said against me-”

“I didn’t mean it like that, princess. Parfait would have done this differently for sure.” She mumbles the last sentence, but I still catch it.

“Parfait? Is that another witch?”

Delora grins mischievously. “Nope! A fairy.”

“A _fairy_?!”

“And she’s probably going mad right now. I’m usually able to send her messages every once in a while, but I was supposed to send her a message earlier, and obviously, I couldn’t.”

“Why are you working together with a fairy? Does she know anything of your intentions to curse me to teach me _goodness?”_ I spit the last word out, but Delora surprises me by laughing.

“Oh, yes,” she says. “We came up with the plan together, after all.”

_Is she one of those “friends” Delora mentioned, then?_

“I don’t believe you.”

“I didn’t expect you to. But the main thing is, I revealed myself just now because, as it stands, we are both trapped right now. And we are going to get out.”

“Can’t you just magic a way out?”

Delora shrugs. “Unfortunately, I’m not strong enough of a witch to create portals. And trying to overwhelm every single guard is just a foolish idea. Well, it _could_ work, but the problem is there’s a witch in here.”

“Yes, I know, she’s standing right in front of me,” I deadpan. Delora shakes her head.

“No, I mean in the palace. I can only assume they’re a bad witch. I’ve sensed their presence, but they have a strong glamour - oh, that’s just a way we can hide ourselves from other witches and fairies - but this witch has a strong glamour cloaking them from me. I was able to detect small traces of magic since a few months ago, but following those traces lead to dead ends. Whoever this witch is, they are much stronger than me.”

“So…you revealed yourself to ‘help me,’” I say, holding up the air quotes, “and then tell me that you’re basically useless.”

“Not completely useless,” Delora smirks. “I do have _some_ skill. Besides, I have a brain too.”

“So do I.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible, princess.”

“So are you.”

“It does feel nice to finally be able to talk back to you, though. I promise next time you pour yourself out to me I won’t remain silent-”

“There won’t be a next time, because if I ever see you on my shelf again I am tearing you apart.”

“Ouch. That’s cruel, even for you,” Delora says, but the amused grin on her face reveals that she is not offended at all.

I sigh, sitting on my bed and rubbing my forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

“Princess?”

_What do I do?_

At this moment, the only one I can really depend on is Delora, despite how much I hate the idea of allying with her.

_But what would Mother do?_

Mother would know what to do in this situation. Actually, she probably would’ve been smart enough to figure out Alcaster as a traitor and gotten rid of him before he would’ve had a chance to put his plan in motion.

But what had Alcaster said? That he wouldn’t be averse to me being on the throne…that he wanted to bring Angielle back to when Mother was queen.

So if Mother were here, Alcaster might not have revolted in the first place.

If Alcaster is telling the truth, though, I could agree with him and I will then become queen.

But then what would happen to my father and stepfamily?

And what about Fritz? I would still like to know what happened to him. I did not see him at dinner, nor this entire day. But he has been falling ill so often recently…and when he comes back fully recovered he will not say what ailed him, simply that he was unconscious for most of it…it could be lies but… _could_ Fritz still be innocent in all of this?

Whatever. I will think about him later. There are more important things to worry about right now. Like figuring out what this witch wants.

_And figuring out what I want to do._

“You say you’ve been suspicious of Alcaster for a while now?”

Delora nods, a grim smile on her face. “About a year and a half ago, I met two former knights who’d been dishonorably discharged for disobeying Alcaster.”

“Those two knights wouldn’t happen to be Jurien Valiente and Garlan Belrott, would they?” I ask, recognizing the story. Both Jurien and Garlan were highly regarded; both very skilled and intelligent. For a while I was under the impression that they had voluntarily left, but later I heard that they had disobeyed Alcaster.

Fritz was especially saddened when he found out. He always got along well with the two knights.

“Yes, it was Jurien and Garlan. What really happened was that they had found out about Alcaster’s plot to take over the throne, and tried to warn the king, but the king chose to believe Alcaster over them so they were kicked out of the Order,” Delora explains.

I have no reason to believe that Delora wouldn’t lie to me…but, all the evidence is here. Alcaster has turned the palace, where I have always been safe, into a prison.

“So the king did not believe them, and yet you did?”

Delora smiles warily. “I know it seems strange. But Parfait and I decided to take what they said as possible truth, and after getting to know the both of them, we trust them completely.”

“You can never fully trust a person,” I say, “There is no way of knowing whether they are just pretending.”

Delora frowns. “Princess, there are plenty of people you can trust-”

“I trusted Fritz,” I point out. “But then he kept disappearing, apparently ‘ill,’ and now his own father has betrayed the king. And he was hiding something all these months. He…probably knew about this plot, and yet he pretended to be my friend…” I try to keep from letting my voice falter at the end, but Delora notices anyway.

“You don’t know the full story,” She says. “Besides, he’s just one example. Generally I find that more people can be trusted than not-”

“Then what about _you_?” I retort. “The only ones I’ve ever trusted completely besides Mother are my dolls. And now I cannot even trust them.”

“I told you all the others are real-”

“That doesn’t matter,” I snap. “Forget about it. Why do you want to help my family?”

Delora grins. “I’m a good witch, remember-”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean _why_. A specific reason. What makes you a good witch, because I’ve seen nothing so far that marks you as an ally of the crown.”

Delora stares for a few seconds, then says in a quiet voice, “Because I care about the kingdom, princess. Because so many people I care about will be affected if Alcaster becomes king.”

“Is that…why you wanted to curse me? Because you didn’t think I would be a good queen?”

_I knew it. She doesn’t want to help out of the ‘goodness of her heart’ or because she actually cares about the royal family, all she cares about is if the king will benefit her or not._

Delora closes her eyes, inhaling sharply. “That’s…part of it. I mean…not that we didn’t think you could be a good queen, princess…but for the past few years, all anyone knew about you was that you were cold, unforgiving, and cruel. The curse we had in mind was intended to be instructional and quite easy to break…if you had the capability of being good, but we still didn’t want to be impatient. A curse is not something to take lightly, after all. I relayed some things to Parfait, and she convinced me to wait a bit more before casting a curse.”

“What would this curse have done?” I ask, partly because I am curious, but also because I am currently at a loss as to what I should do. I don’t even know what the people outside of the palace know; they must not know about the coup, but surely some have realized that something is wrong…?

Delora sits down next to me on my bed, and I glare at her. “What do you think you are doing?”

“My legs hurt,” Delora answers with a shrug. When my glare does not lessen, she elaborates. “I’m normally standing on your shelf for hours at a time. Even witches need their rest.”

“I cannot imagine that standing on a shelf is very taxing,” I say dryly, and she laughs.

“Maybe, but my legs do hurt, princess. And considering the circumstances, that I still have the ability to curse you, you’d better fix that attitude of yours.”

“You’d better fix _yours!_ I’m the crown princess, and you’re treating me with such disrespect when _you’re_ the one that broke into the palace and tricked everyone with the intention of _cursing_ me,” I say, now breathing hard. “I’d say _you’re_ the one that needs a lesson in ‘goodness!’”

“To answer your question, princess, the curse would have made everyone forget about you, so that you would no longer be a princess or have your family,” she says nonchalantly, as if we are talking about the weather.

“Can you really do that?” I ask, eyes wide. But it’s niggling in the back of my mind,

_She’s probably lying._

“Oh, yes,” Delora says brightly. “It was meant to be a twist on Cinderella. She went from a peasant to a princess practically overnight, but this would have reversed that. Of course, we wouldn’t have left you completely alone - we’re not that cruel - but you would still have to work to break your curse.”

“But…I never read the story of Cinderella, but didn’t she just go to a ball and find a prince?” I ask. “I don’t think that attending a ball has anything to do with your perception of goodness.”

Delora smirks. “Smart, you are. No, as I said, it was a twist on the original tale. Cinderella was always kind to everyone, even if they were cruel to her, so you would have had to complete three good deeds. As I said, it would have been easy to anyone with a sense of what goodness is, but we figured this would be good for you.”

“Do you believe that I am not good? That I am truly cruel?”

Delora smiles at me sadly. “Princess, I used to think you were completely cruel. And some of your actions do reflect that, such as the way you’ve treated your stepfamily and your own father, but I believe that you really are capable of goodness. I just think that you’ve forgotten how to be good, and that you do not trust anyone who _is_ good, either.”

I clench my fists. It is unfair for this witch to speak as if she knows me well! Sure, she’s been on my shelf for most of a year, since my seventeenth birthday, and I have poured myself out to her but…

How does this woman expect me to ever trust anyone by betraying my trust in my own _dolls_ of all things?!

 “So,” Delora says suddenly, “We need to figure out what to do.”

“There is no _we_ ,” I snap. “What you need to do is get off my bed _right now,_ or I will not consider working with you.”

“You’re forgetting, princess, that I can use magic and you have no way of defending yourself against me.”

“But you have no intention of killing me, do you?”

Delora shakes her head. “I’m a good witch, remember?”

“Well, then, considering I will still be alive at the end of this mess, I will be sure that everyone knows of your disrespect towards me. And you _will_ suffer the punishment,” I threaten.

Infuriatingly, Delora just laughs. “You’re forgetting that I only revealed myself because I want to try to get you out of this mess. Threatening your lifeline is not considered polite, princess.”

“Who said I even want to get out of this mess? Sir Alcaster would not refuse my rule, he said so himself,” I tell her. “He wants a ruler that will be as good as Mother, and considering how passive the king is, I do not blame him. I do not necessarily agree with his methods…but I do not find his reasoning disagreeable.”

Delora’s eyes go wide. “But…princess, you realize that what Alcaster wants is…well,” she sighs. “I suppose you think the best of your mother-”

“Of course,” I say, “She was a good queen.”

“Do you even know about most of her policies? Or any at all?”

“I-” I falter, trying to think. “Well, she did not tolerate weakness. I can only assume that same intolerance extended towards the kingdom. The king, on the other hand, is too soft on his subjects.”

Delora just shakes her head. “Let me put this another way…do you want to be Alcaster’s puppet?”

“I-what? His puppet?”

“He wants power, princess. He may have said he is amiable to you being on the throne, but what if he finds himself dissatisfied with the way you rule?” Delora asks pointedly. “We both know what he is capable of doing when he thinks the ruler is not up to his standards. Would you like him to organize another coup against you?”

“I didn’t think of that,” I acknowledge. I don’t know what to make of Delora, but she does have a point. What if I do or make a ruling that Alcaster does not agree with? What if he asks for more than just the promise of bringing Angielle back to what it once was? What if he wants more than just what he’s said?

It occurs to me that Delora could be lying, trying to twist Alcaster’s words to make sure I follow her but…truly, I didn’t even think too much about what Alcaster would do. About what he really wants.

He’ll still want power either way, won’t he? I’m still young, so even if I become queen now he’ll have an excuse to stay a top adviser and ‘advise’ me even more than he does the king.

And…for whatever reason, Delora is against Alcaster, but she doesn’t seem to oppose my rule completely. She said she didn’t think I’d be a good queen…but…

Well, I can wait my turn. As long as my father is alive, I am content being crown princess until I am older.

“And we don’t even know what demands he will make of you. Don’t forget, princess, he still has that witch ally who could force you into doing things you wouldn’t normally do. And think of what will happen to your family. Once Alcaster has what he wants, he won’t see a reason to keep them alive.”

“I don’t care what happens to them. After all, they never cared about me.”

Delora’s presses her lips into a thin line. “You can’t mean that, princess.”

“How would you know? Just because you lived as a doll on my shelf doesn’t mean you know everything about me,” I sneer.

She shakes her head. “No, I mean about them caring about you. They really do, you know.”

“Rod hates me, he’s said so himself. Ophelia acts kind, but she is just a fake. Pretending to be a real queen, pretending she is my real mother…as if! And Emelaigne is so infuriating. She just wants to be crown princess,” I say, and Delora looks as if she is about to say something but thinks better of it as I continue. “And the king is the worst of them all. He rarely even looked my way until he suddenly came back with a new wife and two kids and told me that they are my new family. And I’m supposed to believe his apologies?”

“Princess…” Delora sighs. “Well, either way, I do assume you don’t want to be controlled by Alcaster? If you want to retain your birthright but _not_ be Alcaster’s puppet, then we have the same goal.”

“I…suppose,” I concede. “Then what is your plan?”

“If I had a way to contact Parfait…” Delora sighs. “There is one way to get _you_ out of the palace. Whatever happens, you are not safe here.”

“What is that way?” I ask warily, not sure I will like it.

“The Cinderella curse, if implemented, will cause you to wake up somewhere outside of your current location. I…would not know where. So it might…actually not put you somewhere safe.”

I flinch. “No way.”

Delora shakes her head. “No, I know. I would still be stuck here, after all, and I would still have no way of telling Parfait what was happening.”

I narrow my eyes. “Couldn’t you just teleport us out of here? Or are you just that inadequate?”

Delora grimaces. “Some witches are stronger than others, princess. Only the very strongest of the witches and fairies have that ability.”

“So you’re basically useless,” I surmise. Delora tilts her head, contemplating for a while.

“Princess, I know I said it would be hard to try to bypass all the guards, even with my magic, but it would be much easier to sneak by while tiny, wouldn’t it?”

I realize what she’s implying and shake my head frantically. “No, don’t make me small!”

“It’s the best way I can think of, princess. Unless you want to deal with all those knights out there?”

I’m about to respond when I hear the door knob turning. I turn my furious gaze to the door as Delora turns doll-sized again and removes her sound barrier as well, returning to her place on my shelf.

Who would enter my room without knocking first?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...I wonder who it could be???  
> Lol, sorry, this chapter wasn't going to originally end like this, but it was getting a bit long so I split it up.


End file.
